


A Means to an End

by deeplydestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Betrayal, Gen, Indian Character, Internal Monologue, Mythology References, Plot Twists, Pre-Slash, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeplydestiel/pseuds/deeplydestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this piece for a school assignment and this is in fact my first ever attempt at writing any form of fanfiction. So go easy on me, okay? Anyway, since I didn't want to make this too complicated to some readers who might have never even heard of SPN, I had to disregard a lot of the plot of the original show. This story features Castiel and notions of other angels, without any mentioning of Dean having been to hell. However, there are implications of a looming apocalypse and Sam's part in the Devil's plans. I did some research on Indian mythology, which is present in this fic. I'll probably leave this one unfinished as I originally wrote it, because I long to write something that has more of the canon aspects of the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Means to an End

Dean knew a lot about guns, probably more than he knew about anything else. He knew how to unload and disassemble rifles, revolvers and pistols correctly in order to clean the gun barrel, and how to load it in a matter of seconds, a crucial talent to any hunter of his kind. These actions had become ingrained in his brain through relentless repetition over the course of his life. Now, at 29, he couldn't even recall the last time he hadn't held a gun for a full 24 hours.

He liked the sense of security guns brought to him, up to the point where he felt too vulnerable and exposed for his liking whenever he didn't have a loaded gun under his belt. He liked his gun arsenal, too, and kept every single one of them in immaculate condition. On the occasional tediously uneventful night like the one he was having, he would spread his weapons across the bed in the room of some secluded motel and clean each individual with meticulous attention to detail.

It had been his father who had initiated this interest to guns, by taking 6-year old Dean to an empty field to shoot tin cans off a fence. Dean could still remember the look of pride that lit up on his father's face when Dean had hit his first bull's eye. Making his dad proud was something Dean had sought – still sought for. Even though his father was no longer around.

What Dean hadn't understood back then, though, was that his father hadn't taught him all he knew about guns just to get to spend some quality father-son time with him. He had done it in order to retaliate the unnatural and untimely death of Mary, his wife, Dean's mother. In order to find the thing that killed her while offing as many supernatural creatures as possible along the way. In order to raise Dean as a hunter so he could continue his father's legacy and most importantly, protect his little brother Sam.

It had become evident as the years had passed that Sam was Dean's little brother only in the theoretical sense of the word, his tall frame towering at approximately 6'4. It always bugged Dean when people characterized him as "the short one", despite the fact that he was no less than 6 feet tall himself. 

As Dean wiped his last shotgun clean with a luster cloth, he glanced over at his brother lying on his back on the motel bed next to Dean's. As usual, he was reading a book in the dim light of the lamp sitting on top of the night table. 

"What are you geeking over this time, Sammy?" Dean asked with a snarky tone while contently packing his guns into his duffel bag. Sam looked up from his book with a quizzical expression and Dean gave a slight nod towards the book he was holding in his hands.

"Oh, this? It's a book about Indian mythology and I read some pretty interesting stuff about demons, or asuras, as they're called", Sam said, flipping through the pages with his right thumb. Dean couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at him, because reading about the demons of Indian mythology just for the heck of it was such a lame, nerdy and - well, a Sam-kind-of-thing to do. Unlike scrubbing the barrel of a gun, Dean thought - now that was a bad-ass pastime.

Sam paid no attention to Dean's mocking look, and went ahead: "It says here that the asuras constantly fought with the gods for dominance of the three worlds and the source of amrita."

"Am- what now? Why do you even bother reading this stuff? It’s not like we don’t already know everything we need to know about demons from reading dad’s journal", Dean quipped at his brother. Sam lifted up his gaze to meet his brother's and gave him a skilled scowl, one that he had mastered perfectly as a cause of spending the majority of his life in close proximity to Dean and his sarcastic comments.

Despite Dean's mockery, Sam continued his explanation: "Amrita is an elixir of immortality, an intoxicating drink that gives them strength, and-"

Sam was cut short by the outburst of Dean's laughter. "Wait, are you seriously telling me that the Indian gods and demons are like two frat houses who rival over who gets to keep the keg of beer? Now that is priceless."

Dean saw his brother’s expression turn from an average scowl to a full-on bitchface, resulting in Dean nearly howling in laughter. He was barely able to dodge the book Sam threw at his head and grabbed his duffel bag, meaning to take it back to his treasured 1967 Chevy Impala.

He only managed to take a few steps towards the door when suddenly he heard the familiar ruffling sound of wings coming from behind him. Even though he was still facing the door Dean instantly knew that his angel-slash-friend Castiel had decided to pop for a visit, as he often did when he had something for Sam and Dean to take care of.

“What brings you here, Cas?” Dean asked and turned around on his heels to notice Castiel standing barely two feet away from him. The concept of personal space seemed thoroughly incomprehensible for the angel, who was now staring Dean down with his trademark intense blue gaze just an arms length away. For a fraction of a second Dean couldn’t help but stare back, unconsciously losing himself in the sheer depth of Castiel’s eyes, before clearing his throat and pacing back to his bed.

Angels did not look like they were stereotypically portrayed in paintings and statues, rigged with white robes and halos. Sam and Dean had learned that in order for celestial beings to be seen by humans they had to occupy a human vessel strong enough to hold an angel’s true form, which could only be done if the human gave their full consent to the matter. Therefore they looked perfectly normal, no visible wings or divine light emitting from them.

Castiel was sporting his never-changing attire, a tan-colored trench coat, charcoal suit, white shirt and a loosened up blue tie. His dark hair was tousled and his eyebrows woven together in a deep furrow. For a brief moment Dean wondered if angels ever needed to shower, but his thoughts were cut short as Castiel started talking.

“My wings”, he said with his low baritone voice.

“Excuse me?” Dean asked, not seeing the connection with his prior question and the answer he was given.

“You asked what brings me here and the answer is my wings. I do not see the why there should be any controversy, for I have clearly stated that I am an angel of the Lord”, Castiel said. 

“That- that’s not what I meant by -”, Dean started but quickly came to the conclusion that explaining the phrase ‘what brings you here’ would take an awful lot of time and Dean would much rather just cut to the chase. “I mean, what are you doing here? Got news?”

Castiel nodded sharply and Sam, who had been lying on his bed, sat up to listen to what he had to say.

“I came to inform you of the situation in a secluded warehouse a few dozen miles from here”, Castiel spoke with a gravely while his eyes wandered around the cheap and tacky motel room. “The location has been bought by a transportation enterprise and yesterday morning the chief general manager was found dead just outside the warehouse, ripped to shreds with his heart absent from the rest of his corps”.

"Sounds like a werewolf to me", Sam said indifferently and for a split second Dean found it amusing how normal people would laugh incredulously at such a sentence but with the brothers it could be said so casually and matter-of-factly, without even flinching. 

“I suggest you go there right away, you will be better concealed during the nighttime even though there should not be any policemen around at this hour”, Castiel advised the brothers.

“Getting a bit bossy there, Cas”, Dean murmured. He quickly received an accusing look from Sam which he dismissed with a shrug. It was obvious that Sam thought it was rude to talk back at an angel. Dean didn't care, however. He was annoyed at the fact that the angel would only appear if he had a job for the brothers to do. At times of need, like when they were cornered by a particularly vicious spirit or chased in the woods by a ravenous man-eating wendigo, Castiel seemed to be an irrefutable no-show. Sure, Sam and Dean knew how to take care of themselves in such situations, but a little extra help would have been appreciated.

“I was given the order to inform you of said location. It is up to you whether you wish to take up the offer”, Castiel said stoically.

“Of course we’ll go check it out,” Sam intervened, pointedly glowering at Dean. “We haven't found a possible gig for a while now, and this sounds like it's right up our alley.”

Dean bowed his head and gave a deep sigh as a sign of reluctant agreement. “Sure, we’ll go search the place and see if we can catch this killer-pooch."

“Very well. I must be on my way now”, Castiel said and with the rustling of feathers, he was gone.

† † †

The jet-black Impala devoured the highway with the low purr of the engine as Sam and Dean made their way towards the abandoned warehouse. It had been rather easy to locate, since there weren’t too many empty warehouses in the outskirts of Alabama. Dean was feeling a bit on edge, his fists clenching around the steering wheel so that his knuckles turned white.

“Dude, chill, this is going to be a piece of cake”, Sam said, grinning.

Sam was right; the job itself didn’t appear to be too difficult for the brothers. All they really needed to do right now was search the place for any possible clues. There were still a few nights left of the full moon cycle, which gave them more than enough time to find the thing before it attacked again. Besides, both Sam and Dean were sure to carry a shotgun filled with silver bullets, a sure way to gank a werewolf, just in case they'd end up face to face with the monster.

Still for some reason Dean felt a nauseating ball of anxiousness in the pit of his stomach, but made sure to not let Sam see through his façade. “Let’s just get this thing over with so we can go to a bar afterwards for a celebratory beer. And then you can sulk in a corner table with your beloved laptop while I put the moves on some hot chick”, Dean grinned and glanced over to see Sam theatrically rolling his eyes.

They took a side road behind the warehouse and parked the Impala in a small clearing, deciding it would be more inconspicuous to continue on foot. They quickly grabbed the necessary weapons and flashlights from the trunk of the Impala and headed towards the place of action.

A short path across the woods lead them to a large, industrial building with vast walls made from corrugated metal and several small windows near the roofline. A small area in front of the entryway was rounded with police ribbon, evidently the place the body was found, but no officers or cop cars were present as Castiel had presumed. Sam and Dean stood still for a few minutes, assessing the most undetectable way to enter the warehouse.

"The main door is secured and locked but I think there might be a loading dock on the far side", Sam whispered pointing towards the end of the building. "We should be able to find a staircase or ladders and have access to the second floor from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean said in a hushed tone and with that, the brothers began their approach. As Sam had predicted, beside the loading dock a narrow spiral staircase rose up to reach a hatch door. In silent unison they climbed up, Dean leading the way and knocking in the small hatch with his shoulder. It took minimal effort and, made only a small squeaking sound as the latch came undone.

"What doesn't make sense though, -" Sam started as they quietly descended a flight of stairs to the main floor, "- is why a werewolf would kill a big-time businessman in a secluded area such as this one? I mean, don't they usually prey on people in the quiet alleyways of bigger cities?"

Dean realized how completely illogical it sounded. No werewolf they'd ever faced had killed someone so far from civilization. "I know, something doesn't feel right about this."

The brothers had finally reached the main level of the spacious stockroom. It was hard to see around because of the darkness, but it appeared as though the place was mostly empty despite a few wooden crates and cardboard boxes. As Dean began searching for a main switch with the help of his flashlight, Sam paused for a moment, pondering.

"It almost seems like something demons might do", he said.

"Good job, pretty boy", a female voice boomed from the darkness. Dean instantly felt a spike of adrenaline run through his spine and tensed, taking a defensive stance and reaching for the gun under his belt. Sam closed the gap between himself and his brother and scoured the place, looking to see any possible movement in the shadows.

"Too bad it took you this long to figure out", the woman spoke again. "Maybe you wouldn't have walked straight into our little trap if you weren't about as sharp as a bowling ball."

Dean felt his breathing accelerate. What the hell was going on? They just came here to investigate the mystical murder of some corporate fat cat, how on earth could demons be involved? And besides, the work was that of a werewolf, missing heart and all. There was no way Cas would've set them up like this, not unless he didn't know what was really going on. He couldn't have known.

There was a loud clanking sound of the main switch turning and in a few seconds, all the fluorescent lamps in the high ceiling lit up one after the other. It took a couple of seconds for Dean's eyes to adjust to the newfound brightness. After blinking for a few times he was able to focus his vision and saw a slender woman standing about ten yards from the brothers, still holding on to the switch. Her skin was olive-brown and her lips were painted scarlet red, but everything else about her was black. Her long, ebony hair fell in loose curls down to her narrow waist. She wore skin-tight black jeans with and the sleeves of her leather jacket were rolled up to the elbows.

She looked tough, the kind of woman even Dean would steer clear from in bars, because her kind was usually bad news. She stood tall with a menacing grin on her face and she was not alone. Behind her were at least ten men and women of different ages and ethnicities. Some of them looked like housewives, others like executives. Few of them looked like they might still be in high school. That was the thing with demons, they didn't care who they possessed. These people must have gone missing from their homes and loving families god knows how long ago.

"It is an honor to finally meet the famous Winchesters. I've heard a lot about you two, you know", she said with a velvety voice, taking delaying steps towards the brothers. Dean saw her eyes turn from regular, dark brown to fully black and back again in between two blinks of her eyes. So, she's definitely a demon. "You're quite the conversation piece down in the bottomless pit of fire and brimstone. I guess you could say that makes you a hot topic."

The woman in black raised her left hand and with the flick of her wrist, sent Sam and Dean flying several dozen feet across the empty warehouse. They crash-landed against a pillar and Dean grunted as he hit his skull on the hard surface and felt his shoulder dislodge. It took him a while to settle his spinning head, it felt like he might have gotten a slight concussion because of the impact.

Dean realized that no werewolves were involved in this. The gory murder of the chief manager must have only been a decoy to get the brothers investigating the place. But what he didn't know was how Castiel couldn't have known. Surely an angel would be able to recognize the work and sense the unholy presence of a demon. It hurt Dean deep inside to think Castiel might have put them up to this on purpose.

"Are you okay?" Sam, who appeared not to have crashed quite as roughly, asked him. Dean nodded, which was not a good idea because the motion jumbled with his already unstable brain fluids and sent a sickening rush through him.

Dean heard the echoing clack of approaching high heels on the concrete ground. "Who are you and what do you want?" he spat out to the demon.

Standing just a few feet away from them, the woman made an innocent face. "I'm terribly sorry I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Rakshasi."

"You- you're an asura?" Sam asked, stunned.

"I'm impressed, looks like someone's been doing their homework", the demon said to Sam and smiled sinisterly. Dean felt his head start to clear and attempted to discretely grasp the flask of holy water he always kept in his breast pocket. He knew it would only make a demon's skin burn without killing it and he had nowhere near enough of it if all the demons decided to attack him at once. But, hell, he had to give it a shot. If they were lucky, it would be enough to distract them so they'd have enough time to make their escape.

Unfortunately his efforts were in vain because the demon saw what Dean up to. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said gloomily, walked over to Dean and lifted him up against the pillar from the lapels of his leather jacket. She reached inside his coat and Dean flinched at her touch.

"Hold on there, I haven't even bought you flowers and dinner yet", Dean said with a smirk. Rakshasi grabbed the flask from his pocket and threw it away.

"I'm not one to care for flowers, but if you're not careful you might just end up being the dinner", she whispered in Deans ear, sending shivers of disgust down his spine.

While her attention was turned to Dean, Sam took the chance to imperceptibly snatch his knife from the holster he had on his belt. Quick as lightning, he lunged forward and stabbed the demon's side. She hardly reacted to the knife buried between her ribs, even though it must have reached deep enough to puncture a lung. She only gave an exasperated sigh, dropping Dean to the ground from her grip and gently pulling the knife out. A feeble stream of blood trickled from the place the knife had hit. Damn demons and their invulnerability!

"Oh, Sam", she scolded in a way a grown-up might speak to a child for taking cookies from the jar without permission. She threw the blood-stained knife in the same general direction she had just thrown Dean's flask and turned her eyes back to Sam. "Did your mommy not teach you to treat women with some respect? Oh right, she died in your nursery when you were six months old."

A wave of hurt coursed through Dean as a cause for the memory of her mother's death. He had been only four at the time, but could still remember the fire and his father handing little baby Sammy over to him, telling him to run outside as fast as he can. His father had tried to save Mary, but as nothing could be done he had no choice but to save himself as the fire began to spread, destroying the only home Dean ever had.

As the sadness began to slowly disperse, Dean was left with incredulousness. How could the demon know about their mother's death?

"Don't you dare talk about my mother, you know nothing about her", Sam said venomously.

"Actually I do know a lot about her, probably more than you do", Rakshasi responded. She fixed her eyes on the brothers and Dean felt an invisible force tie him down to the pillar, leaving little to no space for him to move in. He was still able to glance at his brother by his side who was apparently under the same influence of the demon's powers. "But let's not wallow in the past, we have important matters to discuss."

"Like what?" Dean spewed. "If this is your way of asking me out I'm afraid your approach is a bit too violent."

"Stop flattering yourself, Dean", Rakshasi laughed mockingly. "Do you have the IQ of a plant or just one brain cell? You're no use for us. I'm more interested in your Bigfoot brother over here. He's the one I was looking to catch. He's the one with a warrant on his head."

Dean was shocked and a jolt of fear froze his blood. He did not like the ominous sound of what Rakshasi had just said. What could the demons possibly want from his brother? 

"The hell are you talking about?" Dean shouted angrily, twisting in his invisible bonds.

"I was told to entrap him for my Master. He has plans for him", she said with a respectful tone. 

For all Dean knew, demons were solitary creatures, tormented spirits that rose from perdition, their only purpose being to create chaos and turmoil amongst the human population. Never had he ever heard of one talking about a Master. What Rakshasi was saying sounded downright biblical, which could only mean that... No. That was crazy, there was absolutely no way.

"You've got to be kidding me", Dean said in horrified awe.

"The sun becomes forever clouded and the moon shall turn to blood as the earth withdraws into eternal darkness. All beings shall bow down to Him, for He will raise his throne above the stars and sit on top of the mountain of might. And through peace He shall destroy many", the demon crooned in a sweet voice with her eyes blissfully shut, creating a haunting contrast between her words and the way she said them.

Albeit Dean had never been one to study the bible and its prophecies, he immediately got the hang of her message. What the demon was saying sounded undoubtedly apocalyptic. This Master she was talking about could only to refer to the Devil himself.

Dumbstruck, Dean felt all hope and will to struggle flee from his body. This was bigger than him, bigger than Sam or any other hunter they knew. Bigger than all of mankind. He had absolutely no idea how they'd get themselves out of this situation. 

The demon's words about needing Sam and having plans for him caused an unbearable feeling to swell inside Dean's chest. After all, the last promise he'd made to his father was to take care of Sammy. Things were spiraling downhill fast and there was nothing Dean could do about it. In addition, the thought of being betrayed by Castiel, who he'd considered a friend despite his weird angelic behavior, brought a new wave of hurt to wash over Dean. He was left heartbroken, with the sensation of having no air to breathe, of drowning in his internal sea of sorrow.

Dean was so consumed in his own thoughts he nearly missed the blindingly white light that began to loom behind the demons. It grew stronger, brighter and more intense and was accompanied by a powerful, high-pitched sound that rattled the insides of his head. Soon it all became so overwhelming that Dean had no choice but to bow his head down as much as the binding allowed and squeeze his eyes closed.

The light and noise was gone as quickly as it had came, leaving Dean bewildered with disbelief on the ground. Sam was leaning against him, holding his arm protectively around Dean. He automatically noticed the invisible binds the demon had tied him down with were now gone, as he was able to lift his hands to rub his eyes. He cautiously peered through his lashes, and was the sight he was faced with was enough to leave him speechless.

All the demons were lying on the ground, lifeless.

For a blink of an eye he watched the scene, flabbergasted, but was interrupted as a flash of beige fabric swept his knees.

"Cas?" Dean whispered. He was utterly unable to believe that the angel might have come to the rescue, since it had been him in the first place who had lead the brothers to the trap.

Dean struggled to focus his vision on the figure before him who leaned in closer. As his face became sharp enough, Dean's dubious assumption was confirmed. It really was Castiel. The angel's face looked serious, more so than Dean had ever seen him. This spoke volumes since Castiel's typical expression could make people think he was trying to solve a particularly tricky Sudoku in his head.

Castiel reached his both hands to the brothers' foreheads, which Dean knew meant that he was about to teleport all of them away from the warehouse. Being an angel with wings and all, a more accurate term for it must be flying, but because it always ended before Dean could even realize, it didn't really feel like it. As his fingertips brushed Dean's skin, he closed his eyes and felt a slight twist in his insides. 

When Dean re-opened his eyes, he found himself in the motel they'd headed out from, sitting on his bed. Beside him, Sam was sitting on his, staring at Dean incredulously.

Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

† † †

One of Dean's archaic Led Zeppelin tapes boomed from the cassette player as he sped across the highway. The half-moon was looming behind a flimsy set of clouds and trees flashed by as Jimmy Page sang about the queen of all his dreams. Dean wasn't paying much attention to the lyrics, though. His thoughts were occupied by the events that had occurred a week ago in a remote warehouse in Alabama.

After having zapped Sam and Dean back to the safety of their motel, Castiel had stayed under the radar, no matter how many times the brothers had called out to him. They had then decided to get back on the road and head to a new town, searching for possible, supernatural cases to work on. As if nothing had happened.

Dean's mind was haunted by the demon's words about Sam and even though he tried his damnedest, there was no way to suppress it. He found himself unable to sleep at night, which essentially was the reason he was driving in the small hours. He'd made sure Sam had fallen deep asleep before getting dressed, grabbing his car keys and heading out.

There was an abundance of questions in Dean's mind, all of which were left unanswered since Castiel didn't see fit to stop by. Normally he would have speculated the events with Sam, but that was a no-go since his brother seemed to be in the middle of it all. The thought left Dean cold as ice.

Dean pulled the Impala over at a vacant truck stop in desperate need for fresh air. He stepped out of the car, stretched his legs and neck and walked over to lean on the hood. Memories of times he and Sam had done the same, usually with a beer in their hands and a sunset to admire in front of them, flooded in his head. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards at the happy flashbacks. Those occasions had felt so carefree, an escape from the horrors they came face to face with on a daily basis.

The comfort of the memories faded as Dean took deep breaths to calm himself. He needed to head back to the motel soon, Sam would surely freak out if he woke up to find Dean's bed empty.

His thoughts were cut short as he heard a rustling noise come from somewhere behind him. A small glimmer of hope rose within Dean's chest which he quickly squelched. Dean was certain it couldn't have been more than the wind moving the leaves or a plastic bag on the ground, that he was simply hearing what he wanted to hear.

"Hello, Dean", a low voice broke the silence of the night.

Dean felt his breathing hitch and rose cautiously from the hood to face the angel. Castiel looked the same as ever, but there was something different about his expression. His brows were closely knit together, which was nothing unusual, but there was something about his eyes that Dean could only interpret as nervousness.

"What the hell is going on, Cas?" Dean cut straight to the chase, tough and determined. He'd imagined this encounter a dozen times over and had carefully thought through all the questions he would want to ask, but now he struggled to keep them in order. "Why did you send us to that place? How did you not know it was a demon setup?"

"I was simply following my orders, and-", Castiel started, but Dean cut him off furiously.

"Your orders? Well that just makes everything alright, then. Just so you know, your orders nearly got me killed and Sam taken by the demons for who knows what purposes", he hissed.

Castiel paused for a moment, allowing Dean to vent his frustration on him, until continuing with a steady voice. "I was not properly informed of the actual occurrences and the presence of demons until later, which is when I decided I needed to intervene so you wouldn't end up getting hurt."

"Later was almost too late, Cas", Dean grunted. "If you only consider me and Sam as pawns to use in your angelic game of chess, you shouldn't have even bothered showing up in the first place."

"Don't you see?" Castiel asked, the tone of his voice exuding power and determination this time. He took a step closer to Dean and stared at him with his electric gaze. "When I came to save you I blatantly defied my orders. Angels are not supposed to do that. I flew in as soon as I had discovered what was really taking place in the warehouse, ignoring my commands. I rebelled against Heaven, Dean , and I did it for you."

Dean stopped in his tracks. Could it be that Castiel hadn't had any idea? The burning anger Dean felt seemed to diminish, leaving him with confusion and no less questions than he had to begin with. He opened his mouth in order to say something, but changed his mind, feeling unable to find the right words. The pair stood in silence and it wasn't until a good couple of minutes had passed that Dean finally managed to speak.

"Why haven't you showed up earlier? Me and Sam have been calling for you non-stop."

Castiel gave a profound sigh, making the angel look astonishingly tired. Dean had never seen him like this and he felt a pang of guilt for being so harsh on him before hearing the whole truth.

"Ever since my rebellious act I have been pursued by my own brothers and sisters. I have successfully managed to keep myself hidden by shutting down the telepathic connection we share and not staying in one place for an extensive period of time. Protective sigils have also proved useful, making my energy field invisible to any celestial being."

Castiel had a blank look on his face, but Dean sensed he was hurting. He was starting to feel immense resentment towards the other angels, for going after Castiel like this, just for doing what was right. Which left him wondering, how could the angels have wanted Sam and Dean to walk straight into the trap?

"Why would the angels and demons work together on this, sending me and Sam straight to the lions' den?" he asked, baffled. "I thought you and them were like, you know, enemies?"

Castiel hesitated for a few seconds, before answering warily. "I heard them call it a necessary sacrifice, a means to an end."

"A means to an end, what does that even-", Dean cut himself short in the middle of his question. He realized what Castiel meant, but there was absolutely no way for it to be true. "That can't be."

Castiel bowed his head and Dean saw him clenching his jaw. Dean's thoughts started to race around his head and he was completely taken aback by the angel's words. Why on earth would angels of all creatures want something like this to happen, something Dean could only name as an apocalypse?

"What's going to happen now?" Dean asked, barely louder than a whisper. Castiel's response did nothing to ease the nerves and the tension.

"I'm afraid I have no idea."


End file.
